


I might be sleazy, but I ain’t a criminal (YOUTH)

by MaruEatsFalafel



Series: Since I was 21 verse [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Backstory, Birthday Sex, Canon Compliant, Eames made Arthur wait, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, eames is a sap, references to underage (not a/e), references to underage!Arthur/randos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaruEatsFalafel/pseuds/MaruEatsFalafel
Summary: After two months of waiting and falling for the infuriating British bar tender, Arthur is legal.





	I might be sleazy, but I ain’t a criminal (YOUTH)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as part of an exercise where I wrote a fic for this pairing for each song off of Troye Sivan's Blue Neighborhood album. This was written while I listened to YOUTH on repeat! 
> 
> Unbetaed. Author's first time writing sex things.

January 16, 1998

The knocking started when the clock stuck midnight, and if Eames hadn’t suspected such an occurrence might come to pass, he would have jumped out of his skin for fear that MI6 had finally tracked him down. As it were, Eames scooted off his rickety bed and slouched to the door in just his tracksuit bottoms. Sure enough the peep-hole revealed an impatient looking Arthur standing waiting, cheeks pink with Midwestern January chill, snowflakes melting in his curls, and his hands shoved in the pockets of his (well Eames’s) leather jacket. Eames opened the door with a flourish and flashed him his most winning grin.

“Happ—” Eames began before he was shoved into his flat and against the wall and Arthur was kissing him quiet. Eames chuckled into Arthur’s cold, yet eager mouth, winding his hands in the lapels of the borrowed jacket to pull the other boy closer.

Arthur moaned softly, going plaint for a moment, but then stepped back, breaking their kiss to turn and slam the door shut, sliding the chain into place. He began toeing off his converse, and running a hand through his hair, shrugged off the jacket and tossed it back to its rightful owner who caught it before it smacked him in the face. Standing there in worn his out jeans and hoodie, curls sticking up randomly, lips flushed from kissing, face flushed from cold, Arthur looked an odd mixture of adorable and alluring. He raised his eyebrows, “I’m eighteen, Charlie, the time is now.”

Eames laughed, “Ah, yes, happy birthday Darling,” pulling the birthday boy (Man!) into his chest for a bone crushing hug. “You’re a free man now, Mr. Arthur Levi.”

Arthur growled softly into Eames’s neck, “and as a free man, I demand I am paid my just deserts.” The birthday boy nipped at the Brit’s collar bone and ground into his hip, clearly done talking for the time being.

Eames shivered and kissed the top of his head, running his hands up and down Arthur’s back. “I’m all yours, Love, how do you want me?”

Arthur licked up Eames’s neck to his ear and whispered, “Inside me.” 

“Fuck, Eames, please, baby,” moaned Arthur as Eames continued his slow push-pull pace in and out of his boyfriend. If this were round one, or even two Arthur would have tried to flip them and take control, either by riding Charlie to the ground or doing the fucking himself. As it happens, however, it was round four and Arthur’s limbs had lost the ability to obey his brain hours ago. Hence the sweet agony of Eames making love to him as opposed to fucking him silly.

Presently said love-maker, was pressing open mouthed kisses wherever he could reach on Arthur’s face neck and chest between slow thrusts and rolls of his hips. Arthur’s got his legs wrapped around his waist, hips jerking to meet Eames’s every time he starts getting close, only to have Eames notice and stop moving all together except for pressing his lips to Arthur’s ear to murmur sweet and dirty promises in his ears. “Arthur, darling, fuck, you’re bloody gorgeous aren’t you pet? Just writhing for me, all pink cheeked and begging, dove.”

Arthur curled a fist into Eames’s sandy blond hair and pulled him in for a kiss that was more just breath passing between bodies with such reverence, both boys trembled with the emotion of it. The two stayed that way, joined, for what could have been days or mere seconds. Arthur mewled into his lover’s mouth and pushed closer with his whole body. 

“Charlie,” it was uttered as if the name contained world’s worth of beauty.

The man in question brushed a soft, “I love you, Arthur,” on his lips, and the two came together, waves crashing against their moment of shared consciousness. One minute later they’d collapsed, intertwined, in sleep.

Hours later the winter sun struggled through the small window above Eames’s futon. The light it cast was frosty, but it hit Arthur’s eyelids, causing the light sleeper’s lashes to flutter before falling closed again. 

“He loves me, M,” he said into his pillow.

Eames, who’d been watching Arthur fight off daybreak for the last few minutes, frowned, confused. He smoothed a gentle hand down Arthur’s back. “’Course I love you, pet.”

“You’re just jealous I have someone!” 

“What are you on about, darling?” asked a, now thoroughly bewildered Brit, pulling his hand back to his side, off of Arthur.

Arthur’s brows crinkled, but his eyes stayed shut as he said, “Mari, it’s my wedding day!” 

That startled a laugh out of Eames, who’d only just realised the other boy had been sleep talking. Arthur’s eyes flew open at the sudden noise and he blinked at Eames owlishly for a moment.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up from a very big day for dreamland-Arthur,” Eames chuckled.

“How did you know—what?”

“Tell, us love who was the lucky lad? Or was this a nightmare and it was a lady?”

Arthur blushed. “Did I talk in my sleep or something?”

“Only just now,” Eames said. “You didn’t say anything incriminating, just that it was your wedding day.”

Inexplicably, Arthur blushed deeper.

Eames brushed a thumb along the flush, grinning cheekily. “Was the bride or groom that frightful, pet?”

Arthur scowled, batting at Eames’s hand and turning from his stomach to lie on his left side—facing away from Eames. He mumbled something quietly.

“Sorry, love, what’s that?” Eames asked, scooting behind his pouting boyfriend, tossing an arm over his middle and spooning him.

“’said I was marrying you, idiot.”

There was a brief moment of silence. Finally Eames leaned over and pecked Arthur on the cheek, saying, “Ouch, am I such a bad catch then, baby, that you hide under your pillow!”

Arthur flipped around again, awkwardly quickly given their close quarters. He pulled Eames’ left arm across the scant space between them and positioned it as his head rest. “You said something last night. When we were fucking.”

If Eames was surprised by Arthur’s directness involving sex or his indirectness involving words said, he didn’t show it. “I imagine I said a number of things last night, darling, forgive me if I ask for some specificity.”

“Fuck you, Eames,” Arthur said, sticking his tongue out.

“Please do darling.”

Arthur’s lips quirked and a dimple flash. “Charlie you know what I’m asking, and it being my birthday, you have to give me what I ask for.”

Eames wrapped his free arm around Arthur and pressed their foreheads together, nuzzling in for an Eskimo kiss, and whispering, “Arthur Levi, I love you.”

“See that wasn’t too hard was it?”

The Brit raised an unimpressed brow, but his stern expression wavered. Who could pull angry faces at a smiling Arthur, especially when this time both dimples were out in full force, and his eyes crinkled up joyfully? An honest to God giggle burst from the dark haired boys mouth, as he cupped Eames’s cheeks in his hands and said, “I love you too Charles Eames.”

Suddenly both boys collapsed into each other in a tickle war, laughing and exchanging toothy smile kisses between attacks. “You ruined it, calling me Charles, babe, you know makes me feel like you’re actually talking to my granddad.”

“Maybe I was!” Arthur wheezed out around a laugh.

Eames tackled Arthur down into the sheets with a screeched “Oi!”

Arthur grinned up at him, feeling the other boy’s weight (and also his semi) press him to the bed. “I love you Charlie Eames,” he said sweetly, sincerely, leaning up for a little kiss from the grinning idiot on top of him. “Even if you did make me wait two whole months before putting out.”

Eames rolled his eyes, “I might be sleazy, love, but I ain’t a criminal.”

“Baby, I’ve been getting fucked by older strangers since I was fifteen, but you made me wait two months before giving me the best sex of my life, when you’re barely three years older than me?!” Arthur’s lips pursed in a fake pout as he wiggled under Eames purposefully.

The blond shifted so he was straddling Arthur’s hips, restricting his squirming. He put his hands on his own hips. “Now you’re just trying to make me jealous.”

“Mm, is it working?” Arthur asked running his hands up Eames’s muscular thighs.

“Nah, love, I’m happy we waited, I wanted us to be on more equal footing. ‘Specially because you don’t have family looking out for you,” Eames shrugged. “Plus I get to do stuff with you none of those blokes ever got to do.”

Arthur quirked a brow, scratching his hands back down to Eames’s knees. “Like what?”

Eames leaned close planted a soft kiss on Arthur’s nose. “Take you to films,” he kissed Arthur’s jaw. “Cuddle,” his collar bone. “Read over your shoulder,” his smile. “Sure, they got your arse first. And creepily.” Eames gave an exaggerated shudder. “But I get everything. Including your arse.” He licked one of Arthur’s nipples before sliding further down the bed, “Including your dick.” Twenty-one year old smirked crookedly up at Arthur before swallowing him down as far as he could.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope someone reads and enjoys this. I've been gone a long time from this series, but I hope to get all of Blue Neighborhood up at some point! Kudos and comment if you want! Love you if you read this at all though!
> 
> Also I think I wrote m/m soft smut without saying cock so my lesbian sensibilities clearly influence my writing...


End file.
